


Two Sides

by JayMitchell



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 21:30:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2285094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayMitchell/pseuds/JayMitchell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are two ways they could tell their story, and it all leads to the same end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Sides

And there he was.

It was rather dramatic, him on the top of the manmade hill of their garden, suited up nicely, smiling at her. 

It had to be for her - she was the only one he knew there.

He was about to go to her, when he was stopped at the tracks by her own father. 

“Be strong,” she whispers, and even if he doesn’t hear it, she knows he will be. For her.

Their conversation is long, longer than what she’s comfortable with, and from afar, his face turns from her prince at the ball to a pauper from a prison. Her father gives him on of his strong handshakes, and leaves for the night.

Still, he comes to her.

He smiles, apologizes for being late. Curiosity gets to her, asking him what he and her father discussed. He shakes his head, “He threatened me. As usual.”

He goes back to his smile.

For the rest of the night, they laugh, they dance, they enjoy the other’s company. Once in a while, some importantson of a senator or a businessman would cut in, ask to dance with her. She had allowed it once or twice and on the fifth time, she politely refused, pointed at him and said that she was with someone.

He never dared to speak up when he was at their home.

A few more dances, and then she leans in and whispers, “Where is your gift, hmmm?”

He’s caught by surprise. Stammers, which is rare for him. “I left it… I was trying to get here as soon as I could.”

She arches an eyebrow at him. “Liar,” she then adds, leaning in closer, for it was his alone to hear. “Then you have to make up for it, in the way that I please.”

He gulps, not quite sure of her plans.

* * *

 

She willingly shares.

The house, all to the two of them. Her parents are out, for one of their business trips. “The reason they even threw me this party - they were supposed to leave this morning. They only remembered about two weeks ago, and then they invited everyone they could. In a laughable attempt to make it appear they remembered.”

She’s giving him a tour of their house - beyond the receiving room that he’s been all too familiar with. “It’s impossible they forgot, no parent would forget their daughter’s party.”

“It’s just not in their top priorities,” she replies, and he sees that her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

They reach the library, lets him sit down on the couch. She runs her hands through the spines of their collection, until she finds a book of her liking.

“Read this to me,” she commands. “You owe me a gift.”

He laughs, and gets the book from her. She sits beside him, kicks of her heels and leans her back on his shoulder, as he opens the book to the page.

_“In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. “Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.””_

 

* * *

 

She was not to be stopped, what she wanted, she got.

He had not finished the second chapter when she grabbed on to him and kissed him full on the mouth. “Your second gift,” she tells him, as she pulls him up and makes her follow him to her own room.

They have done this, many times over, ever since they began to see each other.

It was the idea of making love to her, in her room, in her house, that made him nervous.

And she told him, that it was nothing but a change of scenery - it was still her and him, with nothing to separate the two of them. 

She told him that she would love him, no matter what.

At this, he holds her close. She could feel his heart beat fast, his arms holding her tighter to him. He holds her at arms length. She could not see his eyes, but his breathing would be the one to tell her, that he will be all right.

Her gifts were at her drawer, overflowing from hopeful men who want her hand. 

No.

Her gift, her best one for the night, was standing in front of her.

She removes her bow tie for him, and everything else. 

She was his, much as that he was hers.

* * *

 

 

She wakes up in the middle of the night, and her first instinct was to look at him.

He sleeps peacefully for someone of his state in life. Constantly surrounded by the in and out of worldly events, she supposes sleep was the only time he could ever be untouched. 

She defies this thought, as she kisses his forehead and goes to her bathroom.

On the way, she almost trips on his clothes - serves her right for not cleaning up after. She picks his clothes up, to let them hang neatly on her chair.

A box falls out, landing squarely at her feet.

It was the size of a box for a ring. Her heart soared.

A part of her chastises herself - it could be just a pair of earrings or a necklace. The other part, the one who loved him to the brim and over, knew that he was to ask for her to marry him. That her father’s stern words might have scared him.

She is tempted to wake him up, to make him propose to her in their naked state.

She shakes her head. 

_No, tomorrow. When I make him breakfast, I will be wifely to him. That he might change his mind. Or I could force him._

She forgets whatever reason she has to go to her bathroom. She choses to go back to him instead.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, she wakes up alone. 

 

* * *

 

 

Her father’s kingdom is vast, his hold rather secure.

Perhaps, he loved it more than her.

So when the news came to his office, he wasted no time, and secured a husband for her.

It was advantageous to him as well -he thanked the Lord for giving his competitor for having a son who craved for his daughter.

For nights, she had refused to come, to meet her saviour. His was not the name she had wanted to take for her own.

Again, it would seem that the Lord loved him so much.

He doesn't forcefully enter the room, nor does he use the spare key.

He simply slips the news item from the wire.

When his daughter wails out loud, so loud that he heard it from his office downstairs, he could not help but smile.

His wife looked at him darkly, before she entered and consoled her only child.

* * *

 

A new name, a new life.

She holds her newborn in her arms.

When they ask for his name, she made the choice.

He will grow up without his father.

But that does not mean she will forget.

 

* * *

 

On the days that she is allowed to go to her office, she takes her son with her.

It would appear that her father was handing down his kingdom not to her, but to her husband. After all, they come from the same vein, it should be fine.

Not to her. To her, it was her right to claim.

Soon, she became admired. A mother and yet there she was, in perfect command of her little fiefdom. They were talking about her, they were talking to her.

She was not to be looked down on.

The only time she did turn her eyes away, was when there was news at one of her divisions. “The men are crying,” one of the secretaries said, and curious, she went.

Her knees felt week, yet she forced herself to stand tall.

They called her name, to be one with them to celebrate his resurrection - when they all thought him dead.

She takes one look at him, and leaves.

At home, she holds her son’s hand. “Without him,” she promises herself.

 

* * *

 

Years and years have gone, and yet here they were, nearing the end. He did not leave her side, though he respected and kept the distance she had placed.

She tells herself, he is still there. 

She is not blind to the truth, that years ago, others tried to take him away. And she would have let him go, never to do a counteroffer for his stay. 

He would turn them down, and he stayed.

For her, she had maintained herself, she was active in business and in communities. She had a husband, and when he left, a few strings of lovers she kept on her hands. She was still the same, as if time chose to be kind on her.

Once in a while, she would look at him.

For him, brown turned to grey, he kept to himself and to this little gift she had given him. He had a wife, and when she died so young, he raised their daughter singlehandedly. His looks betrayed his age, yet his smile remained the same. It was as if he gave his share of time for her.

Battles lost, battles won. With her, with her son, with an enemy within their ranks. And as she grew older, her hold in her empire was no longer as tight as it was. She knew it was time for her son to carry on her legacy.

Her heart also tells her something else.

Far too many times, she thinks on the many what might have beens in her life. What if she had talked to him that day they all found out that he was alive. What if she had let him in and let him hold her son; their son. What if she never offered him the opportunity to build the dreams they once shared.

They were old, and regret should not become their comfort.

She walks in to his office one day, and he acknowledges her presence.

“I am drafting a reasonable email to the Right Now fiasco that just happened. I managed to remove all the curse words and made it look… Respectable.” he removes his glasses and turns her.

“Fiasco?” she asks, not that she wasn’t keeping track, but she wouldn’t call it a fiasco.

“Twenty seconds focused on Elliot’s crotch - I told him not to do the graph on the board thing.”

She chuckles, and he smiles at her.

“Now, what can I help you with?”

 

* * *

 

Ever since that night, they have spent more time together. Business lunches turned into friendly walks in the park, pizza for her, hotdog for him. He did not ask for the reasons for this change of heart, she did not tell him.  

Because if she did, then only questions would come out of her, and that she will demand answers.

She decides to enjoy his presence.

She is caught off guard one day, when he muses over his drink.

“For almost everyday of my life as your news attack dog, I swear to God, I kept seeing a mirror of myself,”

She swirls the drink in her hand. “Pretty vain of you to think the news division is yours.” 

“I’m not talking about the news division.” 

She stops, as he continues to look at his tumbler.

“Reese is my son, isn’t he?”

He doesn’t look at her when he asks, he simply does, and he waits for her answer.

She doesn’t, and he takes it upon to believe in the adage that silence meant yes.

“How did you know?”

“Lee, it was like seeing myself growing up all over again.”

It’s been long since he called her by that name, longer than that night that made their son.

He leaves with his drink untouched, as he went back to his office.

Every night before this night, all she had prayed for was for years of these small moments she shared with him.

It feels like she’s lost him all over again.

 

* * *

 

It takes her a few more days to approach him, as he was avoiding her when he could. Her son tells her that the meetings were kept as short as possible, as he would claim, “I’ve got other things to look into.”

A lie, her son claims, as his ship ran better than before.

She waits for him, in his office, where there will be no escape. All those years that she avoided confrontation, now would be the time to change something in this routine.

At first, she was calm, asking him to talk to her, to let them talk this through. Exchanges quickly escalated to heated words, both of them trying not to lose control.

He was the first to break.

“Why didn't you tell me we had a child!?”

_No, you do not have the right to ask me._

“Why did you leave me alone that night?”

It’s been years, and she had thought she had buried it deep within her. But how can she really, when she had grown with the result of what had happened that night? How he grew and how determined she was to protect him from the cruelty of the world.

He doesn't answer. He simply leaves, walks away from her and into the night.

Leaving neither question answered.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t let him off easy though.

She calls Security, asks on to trail him for her. To make sure he’s safe.

Half an hour passed, and she receives the news that he’s just walking along Fifth Avenue.

Half an hour, and she thinks, she cannot lose him now.

 

* * *

 

They both had a flair for the dramatic, and she choses to reveal herself in front of Tiffany’s.

He still bows his head, and though he had heard her call his name, this time, he doesn’t look up. 

She puts her hand on his arms, locks herself in place.

“Let’s go inside,” 

He follows her order.

Neither talk, and she waits for him to open up. She had hoped that the long walk has calmed him down.

He shakes beneath her hand, but she stays. He stops in front of the vast display of rings.

Her throat tightens, she looks back to that night when she discovered his box. This deliberate pause from him is but another evidence she has that it was indeed a ring for her in that box.

She holds him tighter.

He turns to her, and he takes her hands, kissing them, lips staying long.

A few people look intently at them, one or two whispering. It must have been a sight for them to see, and old couple with love keeping them alive.

How she wished it were the case.

“Let’s go home,”

 

* * *

 

She took in lovers, yes. She had a few suits under name, where she can easily slip in to with her beau for the night.

Not him, he does not deserve that.

She takes him back to where it all began.

He rests by her side, his hand carefully holding hers. It’s been years since she last saw him sleep peacefully - she had moments where he saw him trying to take a nap at his office.

She takes him back to where it all began, so that they would close the wounds of the past, let them heal.

She kisses him to wake him up, and after his moments being startled had passed, he realises where he was. He considers briefly going back, and yet his feet followed the footsteps she left behind.

The inside looked almost the same, at least he thinks.

Step by step, she feels like she’s going back, back to that night where she was happy and content and that she had him by her side. How her heart had almost filled with dread when her father talked to him, but all that soon was washed away when he always made her smile.

That night, when the love they made was special, more so because of that box.

She isn’t coy, but she isn't dumb either. Age now has a hold of them, and she does not ask him to let her feel him once more. 

She leads him to her library, and her heart almost gives in when he breaks into a smile, the first she’s seen since that night they asked the tough questions. 

It was he who picked up the book for her.

And like that night, many, many years ago, she took his place beside him and found solace in his shoulder, as he read to her.

 

* * *

 

It was the feeling of flying.

She wakes up to them at the top of the stairs,to her in his arms and to the realisation that he had carried her from the library to where they were. 

No easy feat, especially for him.

He’s trying to breathe regularly, and she couldn't help but to laugh at him.

“Do you know where my room is?”

“No, and I was kinda hoping you would be awake when I was at the bottom of the stairs.”

Another laugh, as she gently gets down from him.

She takes his hand, and walks beside him to her old room. 

“You still sleep in this room?”

“No, I sleep in the other master bedroom, but there are things we must do.”

It surprises him that it was well kept, and a few more thoughts come in when he comes back to her with a touch.  

He draws in a sharp breath, and in an instant, he’s back there again, to that night he loved her more than he ever did.

She bids him to make himself comfortable, as she disappears to her closet. The light from her bathroom turns on, and soon after, she emerges, in a beautiful silk, red nightgown.

It kills him, to be there with her, now.

And yet, he reaches out to her, trembling, as she takes small steps closer. He wraps her arms around her waist, buries himself in her, savouring each second of this.

He feels her hands on his cheeks, she lifts up his head. She takes him with a kiss.

They are not fools, and no matter how hard they wish to turn back time, or to chose to return to a state where they could make this night - and perhaps other nights - theirs again.

They are content with having the other in their arms, sleep taking hold of them. 

They are content being together.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, he wakes up alone.

He considers this some form of payback, and then he considers that he was in her home, so she is around. 

He goes to look for her. He gets a whiff of breakfast being made, and smiles as he heads to the kitchen.

As quiet as a mouse, he goes to her, curls his arms around her waist, and she screams in surprise.

Laughter fills the kitchen, as he gives her what a sweet morning kiss. She lets him help, but to the minimum he could - she wants this whole effort to be hers alone. It was, after all, for him.

They eat breakfast side by side, as if they had been doing this all their lives.

She, of course, dreads the hour that they must part.

On the doorway, she fixes his bow tie, one last time, as he takes her hand and places it over his heart. He leans in for one last kiss.

“I will see you later,” she says with a wink and a smile. He responds by going back to her for another kiss, and by waving goodbye as he is driven away for another day at work.

 

* * *

 

Happiness, though it seems, was never destined to be theirs. 

She doesn't pass by his office, to build anticipation. But she revels in the night they shared.

Only for her assistant to sadly greet her, as she gave her a folded piece of paper.

She fights to contain her screams. But she lets herself crumble to the floor.

 

* * *

 

For Charlie to have died on his way to work, they all thought was heartbreaking. He had died doing what he had loved, on his way to the people he loved. 

Little do they know that he had died happy, yet left the only person he truly loved behind.

The statement of grief, of how his legacy paved the way and that they will all fight the good fight to preserve it. It was what was expected from her.

Little do they care that she had lost what she fought so hard to gain back.

Days pass, until the day her new news division president walks in to her office.

He tries his best to explain why he was here.

To make way for the new, the old had to be put aside. In that endeavour, they opened up the safe that all offices contained.

Will had set it down on her desk. It had been years.

She did not see it clearly then. All she knew, all she felt was a box.

It’s here, before her very eyes.

It was old, a simple blue velvet box - not belonging to any of the famed jewellers during their days. Underneath it, Will had placed a torn out piece of paper, taken from what she could only assume was a reporter’s notebook.

Will left her behind with these.

Her hands trembled, hovering over the box, afraid that it would burn her.

She wills herself to open it.

Inside was a very simple silver band, not even gold, no stones set on it. Simple silver, with an engraving inside.

_To my Lovely Leona, yours forever._

She takes it out, and with what strength remained, she puts it on her. 

She opened the note, and on it, Charlie’s messy scrawl.

Hand over her heart, the one with the ring, she lets herself cry - the one she had kept for all those years.

 

* * *

 

 

_Leona,_

 

_People will say that marrying me is the worst decision you could ever make in your life._

 

_They are right. There is much opposition on our union, and it comes from the world…_

_But mostly coming from me._

 

_I am unworthy of you, I really am. I am no one, comingfrom and having nothing that could possibly make you say yes._

 

_And yet, when I am with you, I am a better man. You’ve made me become a better version of myself._

 

_And that I want to prove them all wrong by becoming the man who was made whole because of you._

 

_And for you._

 

_I hope you say yes. I cannot promise you the world, the universe or whatever big thing guys would say when they propose._

 

_But I promise you myself, that I will be yours, until the end of our days._

 

_That I will be yours, just as you would always say that you are mine._

 


End file.
